


The Long Walk Home

by animefreak



Category: Mortal Kombat Conquest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animefreak/pseuds/animefreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He escaped OutWorld, now what? A nice middle aged Goth lady may have the answers he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Walk Home

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat Conquest and its denizens do not, emphatically, belong to me. Not for profit.  
Time: Today  
Place: Somewhere, Southwestern, USA  
Spoilers: Possibly. Having not yet seen the season conclusion, I'm making this up as I go along, but I understand that Rayden takes a licking.  
Synopsis: Rayden got lost one night and woke up a long, long time later. Sometimes even immortal godlings need someone to talk to.

The Long Walk Home

 

He hurt. He hurt in places he didn't even know he had. His ribs were a stabbing pain when he breathed. He'd really done it this time, and for what? He needed another drink. He reached for the bottle. He frowned and opened his eyes. Where the **ll was that bottle?

"I think you've had enough," a low pitched female voice told him.

He looked around and up. His eyes widened in something very close to panic. His breath came in a gasp that caused him to wince as he shifted ribs that protested loudly. The face was a black and white mask. Very blue eyes rimmed with black, the mouth was a full black gash. Yet the eyes were concerned looking over his reaction. A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"It's OK. This is a Goth hangout, you know. Lot's of strange people. Boy, you are really out of it. C'mon. Let's get you home."

The last elicited a bitter laugh that became a coughing fit that shook him to the core. The woman helped him to his feet and steadied him as he caught his breath. He practically sobbed as he breathed. The alcohol should have deadened the pain, deadened the memories. He blinked owlishly down at his new companion. He let her take him out of the den of noise.

The air outside was hot, but far less noisome. He had no idea where he was and her questions seemed to get more and more distant. Finally, she realized she was losing him and had best load him into her truck and take him home with her. Tomorrow she'd figure out where she needed to return him..

Birds. He hated birds. He really hated first thing in the morning filled with songbirds. He especially hated them when he already had a pillow over his head and he could still hear them. He knew an urge to blast the area. He smelled something that smelled tantalizingly good. He moved out from under the pillow and frowned as he moved. His head hurt. No. His head throbbed and ached and told him he was going to lose whatever he'd eaten in the last few days --now. How thoughtful, there was a bucket at the side of the bed on which he lay. He lay there exhausted and blinked at the bucket which was now half full. No food, evidently. Just lots and lots of alcohol. It was a good thing he was immortal. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Well, I didn't think you'd be awake yet." The same voice. He looked around into a much more normal face. The eyes were still blue, but not black rimmed. The face was normal, warm, flesh colored. The lips were pale. She was a pleasant enough looking woman of middle age. She looked at the bucket. "That should help. Through with it?" 

He nodded and covered his eyes with his forearm. He frowned again. His forearm was bare. That was unusual. He thought about it for a moment and realized that bare was a really good word for his current condition. He opened his eyes and looked under the covers. What had he been doing? With her?

She came back into the room just in time to see that concerned look. She laughed. It was a bright, cheerful sound. "No, you didn’t do anything you'll regret," she assured him with a grin. The eyes twinkled in the most disconcerting way, as though this mere mortal could read his mind. He wondered how many times he had annoyed Kung Lao and company with just such a look. He found himself responding to the smile. 

"I am -- grateful --"

"But a little lost. You've been asleep for better than 24 hours."

"I believe it."

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

"That's not that hard," she pointed out. "You were probably bordering on alcohol poisoning. Think you could handle something non-alcoholic to drink?"

"Probably." He sat up and recalled his state of undress as the smooth, fresh smelling sheet slid down his chest. Again that friendly grin. She handed him a glass filled with something orange. He sniffed it cautiously. It smelled like oranges. He tasted it. It tasted like oranges, cool, sweet and tangy. It hit his stomach which thought about this for a long, suspenseful moment and then decided that anything was better than more booze. He downed the rest of the glass.

She had opened a door to a closet and pulled out his robes. They were clean, but a great deal the worse for wear. She was looking at them critically. She met his gaze. His look said he wasn't much more pleased with their state than she was. "Care for a different look until we can get this repaired?"

Something kept him from pointing out that repairs were simple. He nodded. She bustled out and back with an armload of clothing. Given what she'd taken off of him, she figured button fly front denims and a long, comfortable t-shirt tunic would be familiar enough. His boots were still in pretty good shape, though she wondered at the color. What guy in his right mind wore white boots off stage. But then, what guy she knew would be caught wearing the outfit he'd had on when she found him? She quelled her itching curiosity and left him to get dressed with breezy directions to the bathroom. She missed the look of query over that term.

He pulled on the tunic and gathered up his boots, the jeans and a pair of socks thoughtfully provided and went to investigate the bathroom. Interesting. He discovered indoor plumbing in a big way. The shower drew him. Hot water. Running hot water. He pulled the tunic off and stepped under the controllable, indoor, geothermal waterfall. It stung in places, but it felt so good. He was a little surprised when it got cold. He wondered if he should apologize for running the spring out. 

He got out, dried off with the towel he found and dressed. His ribs were still protesting, but the ends weren't grating any more. The rest of the bruises, contusions, abrasions and general batteredness seemed to be healing also. He looked at himself in the mirror. That was a mistake. All he could see was the hollowness behind his eyes. All he could see was the failure, the loss, the destruction that was Shao Kahn and his minions entering Earth Realm. He took a long shuddering breath and looked away. Why was he here? Why, of all of them, had he apparently escaped? And to where?

He emerged from the bathroom looking subdued. The smell of cooked food drew him to the kitchen where his hostess was just putting the finishing touches on a light breakfast. Her smile faded as she met his eyes. Oh, my. There was a world of pain there. Well, the first thing to do, was get him fed and then maybe they could figure out how to start working out whatever it was that troubled him.

He sat down and stared at the plate in front of him. Bile surged up his throat, not over the food, but over himself. He started to get up again. No, he would not deny the gift his hostess was giving him. Even an immortal had to eat. He ate methodically. About half way through, he began to differentiate the tastes and textures. The woman was an excellent cook. He looked up to say so, and realized she had left him alone. He listened, almost panicking at being alone, again. He heard odd clicking noises and a soft giggle. 

He finished eating and followed the noises.

She was sitting in front of a box with a colored side that kept changing. Her fingers practically flew over a board in front of her and a blinking line traveled across the face of the box leaving an imprint of some sort behind it. As he stepped up behind her he realized they were words. She was writing words on the box without touching it. This was going to take some time to get used to.

She became aware of his presence behind her. She looked up and smiled. "Hi."

"Hello. What are you doing?"

"Writing. I'm an author. Not a big famous one, but adequate."

"An author. Of what?"

"Stories. Fiction?" Why had she been expecting that look of incomprehension. "Tales of heroics, daring do, swashbuckling action --" She swiveled the chair around to really look at him. "None of that made any sense, did it?"

"Of course," he tried to brazen his way through. Something in her eyes told him she wasn't having any. He backed down and shook his head. "No. None of this makes any sense," he admitted with a gesture that took in the computer, the room and, just maybe, the rest of the world outside. "Where am I?"

"Las Cruces, New Mexico. About 45 miles north of El Paso, Texas." Now that was a blank look. 

"Where are you supposed to be?"

"Somewhere else," he said wearily and sat on the floor, his legs folded neatly under him. He looked as lost as he felt.

"Hey, it's OK -- well, maybe not," she contradicted herself as she met his gaze again. There was more pain, hurt and loss in his eyes than she had ever seen. She wanted to tell him it would be a ll right, that he'd be OK. But she wasn't entirely certain she was right. "You have a name?"

"Rayden." Not Lord Rayden, not Thunder God, just Rayden. His bones felt old. 

She moved down out of the chair onto the rug in front of him. "Rayden. I'm Kat. Well, Katrina, actually, but most people just call me Kat."

"Kat. Katrina. They suit you."

"Why thank you. So, you want to talk?"

He shook his head. No. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to this nice woman. If she knew nothing of Shao Kahn, of Mortal Kombat, of his betrayal of the champions of Earth Realm -- he started to shake. Kat reached for him, pulling him into her arms and holding him as she might a child He wanted to resist, wanted to flee, but the comfort she afforded was what he needed with a soul deep need. He leaned against her, his arms went around her and he held on as the emotional storm tried its best to shatter what was left of the Thunder God. He awoke some time later, his head cushioned in her lap.

She was talking to someone. He sat up.

She held the phone away from her ear for a moment to assess him. The phone had him buffaloed. "I'll call you back. My guest woke up. Later." She set the cell phone down and turned to face him. "No cell phones where you come from, huh?".

"No."

"Long distance communications device," she gave him a short definition. "Your turn. Where *do* you come from?"

"Abroad." It was a safe answer.

The look she gave him was classic. "No joke. Where. Specifically."

"OutWorld. Technically."

"Out World?" she repeated. She knew that term, but couldn't for the life of her remember from where. "As in -- not Earth?"

He nodded. "As in not Earth Realm."

"Earth Realm. Why does all this sound familiar?" she asked herself more than she asked Rayden. Where had she heard this before? She looked around the room with a frown. Books lay in stacks on the shelves that covered the walls, on the tables, on the floor and on most of the chairs. Science fiction, fantasy, history, pseudo-history, witchcraft, mythology, horror and the occasional romance novel, as well as the usual run of classics from Shakespeare to Ionesco to Homer and Ovid. The grist for her own writing mill. Yet she could not pinpoint one source that would give her the answer. "I know this -- I just don't know where I know it from."

"History? Tales from your ancestors." He walked over to the window and looked out. The world was dusty outside, but far greener than Out World under Shao Kahn. "This is Earth."

"Well, that's what we call it."

"And Out World is something with a ring of familiarity, but not something you know and fear."

"Well, no."

"Then Earth Realm did not fall?"

"To what?"

"To Shao Kahn. To the mad Emperor of Out World."

"Not lately. I mean, there have been a lot of mad emperors, and civilizations have gone up and down, but -- what was it? Shao -- Kahn? Like Genghis Kahn? Nope."

"Genghis? Who?"

"Would be world conqueror of Mongol ancestry about 8 - 900 years ago. Barbarian. Got his empire. His grandsons destroyed it -- well, it ate them, technically." 

Rayden smiled. What an oddly matter of fact woman. In some ways, she reminded him of Taja -- if Taja had been shorter, plump and middle aged with an engaging sense of humor. "What year is it?"

"One is tempted to ask "by whose reckoning"? Christian European, it's 1999, just a few month's short of the turn of the century. By the Chinese/oriental calendar it's somewhere in the area of 4830-something. By the Jewish calendar -- you get the picture?" 

"But there has been no upheaval within your knowledge. No invasion of otherworldly forces --"

"Unless you believe in extraterrestrial invaders, no."

"What?" Rayden was beginning to feel like they were being divided by the language instead of drawn together.

"Long story. I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

He was about to protest that they'd only just had breakfast when he realized he was  
watching the sun set. He agreed. Food was in order. In fact, he was beginning to notice  
that he was very, very hungry.

Rayden had eaten at inns, at brothels, at bars, at a lot of places, but this was new. Burger King . What was a burger and why would one wish to be king of it? Which was a little bit like attempting to figure out the motivation of the vehicle in which they had arrived. Kat decided that drive up and dine out were the best idea. Rayden didn't seem particularly comfortable with large numbers of people -- or traffic. 

Well, the food smelled good. A few minutes after having the sacks of food delivered to their vehicle, they were parking near an expanse of grass with a few trees and next to a river. Kat got out of the car and motioned for Rayden to join her. She smiled at him. He got out, stretched and looked around. It was peaceful here. A light breeze stirred the leaves on the trees and his hair. He could hear the sound of the water moving past. The river itself was shallow looking, sand bars breaking the surface at intervals. 

He sat down on the grass. Kat joined him. She handed him his first burger. He frowned at it, then  
took a bite. Meat, onions, something tart, not bad. He continued eating in silence. Kat had a vision of him in his original outfit, undamaged, sitting in a sylvan setting, at peace. Her mouth twitched at that. No. Not at peace. At rest. Rayden was not the peaceful sort. She did wish he would talk. She knew something was eating away at him,something he saw as an ultimate hurt. Yet she suspected that if she could get him to talk, to examine whatever it was, he might discover that it was not just survivable, but maybe fixable.

The stars started to peep out in the darkening sky as reds and golds streaked the western horizon. The city lights were dim on the riverbank. Rayden leaned back on his elbows and surveyed the night sky. It looked both familiar and alien to him. He lay back in the grass, his hands clasped behind his head. It was peaceful here. He could lay here forever. 

Memories came unbidden to lay waste to the peace. Kung Lao. Taja. Siro. They had trusted him. He had fought Shao Kahn. He had backed the three of them. Yet, in the end, regardless of how hard they fought, they had lost. How? Why had Shao Kahn been granted entry to Earth Realm? It had not been a declared Kombat. There was no way Shao Kahn should have been able to –

Rayden sat up suddenly, a thoughtful look on his face. Maybe it hadn't been a total loss. *If* this was the Earth he knew, it was obvious that Shao Kahn had *not* laid waste to it as he had the Out World and the other realms he had conquered. What he needed was more information. He became aware of Kat looking at him speculatively. 

"What?" he asked suddenly.

She raised her eyebrows in a look of innocence. A smile hovered around her mouth. "I suppose a "what, what?" response would be a bit much, wouldn't it," she responded. "You look like a man who's discovered that the world isn't as black as he thought it was."

"I'm not a man," he shot back easily.

"Right. Then *what* are you?" she asked, playing along but uncertain where this was going.

"An immortal. A god."

"Yeah, right," came the skeptical reply. "You're delusional."

Rayden regarded her for a moment in confusion. He wasn't used to people outright denying his statements. He wasn't used to such complete disbelief. "You don't believe me?"

She met his gaze for a long, silent moment. Something in the calm troubled her, but she was not going to let it shake her. She'd rescued a nutcase and that was that. "No."

"And if I prove it?"

"By doing what? Turning water into wine? Parting the river like Moses parted the Red Sea?"

"How about this?" He got to his feet, dusted off his jeans and concentrated. Lightning played in his eyes and across his fingertips. Jagged bolts shot *up* into the clear sky. Kat's eyes widened, her lower jaw dropped in surprise. He squatted down in front of her.

"And now?" he said quietly.

She closed her mouth in the vague hope she didn't look too foolish, swallowed hard and tried to come up with one of those "logical, rational" explanations of which the characters in her books were so fond. Then she had to choke back a burst of laughter. Weren't those also the characters that were always having to eat their explanations?

"OK," she said slowly. "You're not delusional. And, --- and I am having a really hard time with this," she ended in a rush.

"Why?"

"Well, gods don't just -- " she thought about it for a moment. "None of the gods with which I'm -- familiar, for want of a better word -- get drunk and get taken home by middle aged Goths in the middle of the night."

"They don't? What *do* they do?"

"Oh -- hang out being all powerful, all knowing and way too judgmental by half," was her succinct, biased answer. Rayden seemed to be wearing a small frown over this. 

"Uninvolved?"

"Depending on which faction of which major religion you talk to. OK, it's a really, really prejudiced, jaundiced view of the situation. I'm not religious in any sense. I don't *do* gods, so to speak."

"You do now," Rayden corrected her with a quick grin and then grew serious again. "I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me."

"I haven't done anything."

He laughed. "Yes, you have. You want to hear about it?"

Her first instinct was to say no. Luckily, her second instinct slid in with a nod before her first one could formulate a polite way to deny her interest. Rayden sat down in front of her, again folding his long legs under him. He told her of the Mortal Kombat Tournament, of Kung Lao,the winner of the tournament and his lost love. He told her of Siro and Taja. He told her of OutWorld, of Shao Kahn, of Shang Tsung and Vorpax.

And he told her of what he had believed was the final battle for Earth Realm. His face was a blank mask as he spoke of the apparent triumph of Shao Kahn and his forces. Tears formed and ran silently down his face. He had truly believed he had some how betrayed Kung Lao, Taja and Siro. Now, he was beginning to think that there were some false perceptions in his memories.

"I have to go back.".

Kat nodded. She had heard that one coming. She hastily folded up and stowed away the tinges of emotional ties that had been sneaking around the edges of her consciousness since Rayden woke up. "How?"

"Practical. I need to find a way to create a vortex portal, a passage back to the Earth Realm I know."

"Lightning?"

"Maybe. Tomorrow. Tonight, I think I will just enjoy the peace of being here and believing that all is not lost."

Bird song awakened him. This time he didn't feel like blasting the little feathered harbingers of day to smithereens. Nor did he feel quite as comfortable as he had the last morning. He opened his eyes and looked up into the branches of the tree under which he lay. Somebody mumbled something grumpy and shifted against him. He looked to his left. Dark hair, tumbled in sleep. Kat was backed against his side, his arm under her head. They were both fully dressed, so apparently they had fallen asleep by the river.

They had talked. He had told her what it was like to be Lord Rayden, Thunder God. He had told her about the Elder Gods, which had made her giggle and then laugh. Maybe his tales had not been as dignified as they might have been. He had tried to get her to talk about herself and kept finding himself steered back onto what she seemed to think were safer topics. He reached over and brushed her hair out of her face. Grumpy sounds murmured into the grass.

"Wake up."

"No."

He laughed and pulled her over to rest on his chest, her hair tickling his chin. She leaned up and made a face at him. Her eyes were still blue. He smiled at her. She relented and smiled back.

"Good morning." She stretched and frowned. "Ouch. Remind me that I'm too old to sleep in the grass."

"OK." He looked at her for a moment and then asked just how old she was. He had assumed middle aged, but was beginning to suspect that what he considered a middle aged mortal might not be quite right.

"50." She almost choked with laughter at his startled look. Here he had been going to apologize for mistaking her for a matron when she was more grandmother aged by his reckoning.."50. You're sure?"

"Yes."

"You don't look it," slipped right out of his mouth before he could stop it. What an idiot he must sound. "I mean --"

"I know what you mean," she said gently. "I get the feeling that your normal frame of reference would put me in the "old age" category. Around here, I'm comfortably middle aged and not to retirement, yet. Not for another 15 years, officially and if I keep making the writing thing a go, not ever."

"I *was* thinking middle aged, but -- there is no way to put this delicately."

"Nope," she agreed with a laugh. "You know something, I am beginning to think gods like you would be a good thing."

"Now how do I take that?" he wondered.

"Any way you want to. Bathroom. 'Scuse me." She wiggled out of his grasp and trotted over to the thoughtfully provided facility.

He rolled over onto his stomach to watch her. He smiled again. Kat was a *very* nice woman. He almost wished she was in his own place and time. No. Wouldn't suit. He rolled back onto his back. 

While he waited for Kat to return, he was peripherally aware of a couple of vehicles pulling up. A quartet of suited, official types got out, consulted and cautiously moved toward Rayden. He became aware if them just as they pulled their guns. Kat, coming out of the bathroom, looked at a scene right out of one of her favorite movies. MIBs. Oh, great. Black suits, white shirts, black ties, black shades and FBI haircuts. What in the world? She stepped back behind the courtesy wall and watched.

Rayden got up. Something in his movements told her he was less than thrilled with this intrusion. One of them gestured toward the cars. Rayden crossed his arms. His mouth thinned into a straight line. Oh, boy. Kat had a feeling the MIBs were in trouble.

Rayden's arms shot out, his hands above his head. Lightning. Yipe. Kat ducked. The MIBs scrambled for non-existent cover. One of them dove into the river. Bad idea. Rayden -- Kat looked dumbfounded. Rayden disappeared. A twinkle of light and gone. She turned her back to the wall, slid down it and sat on the concrete floor. She swallowed hard. Now *that* was godly.

A shadow fell across her. Oh, not. Not the MIBs. She looked up into Rayden's dark eyes. He offered her a hand up and they left, leaving her car sitting neatly parked to be retrieved at a later date. He was still holding her hand when they reappeared at her home. Good thing. She considered the wobbly knee effect of his form of travel, took a deep breath and tried to get calm..

"You do that a lot?"

"Yes."

"I think I need a drink."

"No time." He let go of her hand and walked into the house.

For a moment, she tried to remember if she had locked that door. Then she scurried after him. He was in the guest bedroom reclaiming his robes. This time the lower jaw didn't drop quite as far as the damaged fabric shifted and *healed* as he dressed. It wasn't until he turned to face her that she blushed over having watched him change. He grinned at her.

"Now what?"

"I have to go."

"Well, yeah. How?"

"A portal. I need to find a place I can open a portal to Out World."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she found herself asking, in spite of being quite well aware of his need to return to his own place and time. 

"No."

Well, at least he was honest.

"OK. So -- What kind of place?"

"Open. Empty. Away from those -- morons."

She giggled. "MIBs."

"MIBS?"

"Men In Black. It comes from UFOlogy." Oops, blank look. "UFOs? Uh – people who believe we've been visited by extraterrestrial visitors in high powered interstellar spacecraft capable of traveling between worlds and also believe that there is an organized governmental task force that *hides* the evidence," she compacted an explanation.

He shook his head in disbelief. He was looking forward to going home. This world was far more tangled than his own. "Ideas?"

"The mountains." She pointed out the window at the nearest range of mountains visible. This was New Mexico. There are dusty chunks of the Rockies just about everywhere on the landscape.

"Done." Why he took her with him, he wasn't certain, but he did.

They reappeared in a valley. It was hot, but not too hot. The trees were short, desert trees, providing very little shelter. He looked around and focused. Yes. There was power here he could blend with his own, that he could use to help open the portal. Kat backed away as the lightning played around Rayden. He looked -- primeval. He was so certainly in his element that she lost all fear of the voltage playing around them. She watched in fascination as he pulled the fabric of space and time asunder in a eye searing, whirling vortex. A hole in the fabric of reality, a wormhole to another place and time. She suddenly felt like she's stepped beyond science and science fiction into the stuff of legend.

Rayden looked around for his new friend. He wished he didn't have to leave her. He really had developed a fondness for her over the short time they had known each other. He held out a hand to her. She stepped forward, her hair being blown mercilessly by the wind the portal was generating. She took his hand to shake it good-bye and was surprised when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. This was not a "good bye friend" kiss. This was a *kiss*. This was lips and tongues and heat and passion from places she hadn't realized she had places. The depth of response surprised both of them.

They parted, Rayden's dark eyes looked hot, flares of lightning playing in their depths. "We'll meet again!" he promised over the building roar of the portal. He stepped through to another time and place leaving Kat to figure out a way home. He turned in afterthought to the portal as he realized he had stranded her. The portal snapped closed.

"So. You return."

Rayden turned to face his most annoying enemy.

Kat pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called a friend. Maybe she'd explain what she was doing in a valley in the mountains at some point in time. Not now. Now she just wanted to get back to her car and home. She licked her lips, the taste of Rayden still lingering on her skin. Wow. We'll meet again. Not likely. But then she wasn't too certain just how she'd handle it if they did -- or if he'd stayed. Whoof! 

Kat got home. Kat got her car back from the MIB impound after some pointed argument. Kat went on with her life. She'd occasionally find herself staring at nothing out the window and realize it was the shadow of the valley where he had left her that was drawing her attention. She threw herself into a very short lived relationship. She got disgusted with her reflection and took up weight lifting. Ouch. OK. Maybe that wasn't the answer. She investigated martial arts classes and found one that didn't seem to think you should be Bruce Lee on day one.

A year passed. The century turned. The world continued. Y2K missed her computer and her publisher. She turned out a fantasy romance that sold like hotcakes. She went to class and advanced to her second and third level belts. Not that she could ever remember which belt she was supposed to be wearing to class, of course. 

She walked out into a hot August late afternoon, the sun finally sinking toward the western horizon, but not nearly swiftly enough to make the walk to her car anything but sweltering, especially after an hour of Tae Kwon Do workout. She threw her bag in the back and was about to open the driver's door when a shadow fell across her hood. She turned to see who had followed her out. For a moment, his own shadow blotted out his face. She took in the suit. Armani. Pale cream. The shirt was white and soft looking. His hair was pony-tailed back. The dark eyes under the dark brows twinkled at her. He smiled. She leaned back against her car, her mouth falling open.

'Why do I always manage to look like a fish gasping for air?' she wondered to herself. "Rayden?" There was wonder in her voice as she identified him. 

He nodded. "Rayden." He looked her up and down, his brows drawing together a little over the changes he saw. She was still round, but not nearly as round as she had been. She no longer looked middle aged to his eyes, he had lived the time that brought him to her now. "You've -- changed."

"Yeah, well. I got tired of being a barrel."

"So I see." He decided that all the speeches in the world would not say what he wanted to say to her, so he substituted action. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. They became oblivious to the small giggling crowd of youthful TKD enthusiasts watching them through the window. They parted only when Kat decided that breathing had become imperative. She caught her breath and grinned up at him.

"I'm hungry."

"So am I."

End


End file.
